


What We Screw In The Shadows

by BirdWhistle



Series: What We Screw In The Shadows [1]
Category: What We Do in the Shadows (2014)
Genre: A little bit of fluff if you squint, And Taika Waititi can soooo get it hot damn, Cause Viago deserves it, F/M, Smut, but mainly just smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23846305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdWhistle/pseuds/BirdWhistle
Summary: Sex has always been hot and dirty, but Viago hasn't given himself the chance to have it like that. Until you come along.
Relationships: Viago (What We Do in the Shadows)/Reader
Series: What We Screw In The Shadows [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974307
Comments: 21
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter 1

Oh.

_Oh_.

They’re vampires. Real vampires. Not cosplayers of some movie you’ve never seen (you don’t really like vampire movies), or the neighborhood’s unofficial weirdos. They truly are blood-sucking creatures of the night. Cold-blooded (ha!) murderers (not funny, really). But hey, they’re kind of fun. And one of them’s got you all worked up and ready to fuck his dead brains out.

If only he’d say yes. If only he’d show interest in more than sucking you dry. Well, technically, he doesn’t seem interested in that, either. He’s awfully polite and even friendly. You had promised them you’d keep their secret, in exchange for, you know, your life. That didn’t mean they didn’t make you nervous; you wondered if these… things could actually keep promises and/or control their impulses. The youngest eyed you with a malicious glee whenever you walked past the house and you didn’t like it. You made sure to mention it when they -all three of them- stopped by to ask for bleach -such a strange interaction, that one- and Vladislav and Viago glared at Deacon, who looked so embarrassed you almost felt bad for bringing up. Almost.

It wasn’t his attention you sought, but Viago’s. His warm gaze, his gleeful tone when he spoke made you all tingly. And he was tall and had these big, brown eyes and his smile was often bashful, as if he were trying to hide his fangs. You couldn’t help but imagine him with messy sex hair, eyes darker and lustful as he fucked you against a wall. But he showed no such inclinations; in fact, he seemed rather timid and… sexless? You weren’t sure that was the right word to describe it, but he gave the impression of being completely uninterested in matters of the flesh.

“He lacks experience, but, as far as I know, he likes women”.

This unprompted remark made you turn to Vladislav in surprise. They were having a ‘get-together’ in their house, which was as grim as you’d expected. There was this other vampire you hadn’t met, a creature that almost didn’t look human who went by the name of Petyr. He was 8000 years old, and he gave you the heebie-jeebies at first, but he was actually pretty nice, way more pleasant than Deacon, whom you’ve grown to tolerate (he reminded you of your brother when he was a teenager far too much). This gathering was both somber and hilarious at once, a mismatch of beings out of time but trying hard to catch up with the times and people (a handful) who were fascinated by and weary of these creatures.

“Wh- what do you mean?”, you stuttered. There was no use in denying you’d been eyeing Viago almost longingly, but that didn’t make it any less awkward. Could everyone see that you liked him?

“It means you’ll have to make the first move” Vladislav said with a smile.

You couldn’t help but smile as well; he was a pretty charming guy, the womanizer of the group.

“Just because he likes women doesn’t mean he likes me” you stated. You were excited to hear Viago wasn’t asexual or abstinent or gay, but that hardly meant he’d be open to your flirting should you decide to pursue him. “Nobody likes being rejected”, you finished. Vladislav chuckled, but there was a sour note behind it and you wondered who had had the courage to turn down this fella.

“Despite his age, Viago is naive. And thoughtful, though that often backfires. He likes your company, but he senses your reluctance to interact with us.” Ha, _shit_. Vladislav turned to look at Viago, who was chatting with Stu about God knows what; they were giggling like two middle schoolers and Viago was looking at you with his usual friendly demeanor, but he looked away when you made eye contact.

You laughed nervously and looked at Vladislav, who was rolling his eyes. “I cannot tell you if he’s into you, cause I really don’t know, but I can tell you that there’s a lot to be into”, he said before walking away. You could feel your cheeks burning at Vladislav’s compliment. Would Viago say the same? Hell, you hadn’t gotten laid in ages and just looking at Viago made you horny. He wore all these layers of clothes, always covered up, and you obsessively wondered how it’d feel to touch his skin, if it’d be soft and smooth to compensate for the coldness. You thought about slowly undressing him, ridding him of all those ridiculous clothes, nibbling him here and there, taking him in your mouth. Did male vampires cum just like normal, alive dudes? Would Viago let himself cum in your mouth? Would he ask you to let him cum on your belly, on your tits?

You took a deep breath and tried to gather some sense of composure. Some fresh air would do you some good, so you stepped outside. The night was chilly, the sky black and unreadable.

“Was Vladislav inviting you to a private party?” Viago asked beside you.

You jumped and cursed their ability to be sneaky as fuck. You looked at him and smiled. “No.”

He smiled back, shy as usual.

“He was giving me some advice, actually. I like this guy, but I don’t know if he likes me” you said, looking straight ahead. Viago shifted next to you, and you could feel his eyes on you. You kept looking ahead.

“You’re a very likable person” he said softly.

You laughed. He was going to make this difficult, wasn’t he?

“I guess. What I meant is that I like him…” you paused, uncertain of the words to use. “I like him as a friend, sure, but I’d love to be more than just friends. Well, to be honest, we’re not really friends, we’re just neighbors. He’s very nice to me, but he’s nice to everyone. I cannot tell if he’d like to… I’d like to kiss him, but I don’t know if he’d like to kiss me.” You swallowed and waited. You chanced one look at Viago. His brow was furrowed.

“Who is this fellow?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes. _Fuck it_. “It’s you, Viago. I like you, a lot. I think about you and I…” you didn’t know how to finish that sentence, so you stopped talking.

“You like me? You want to kiss me?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

“I want to do more than kiss you” you muttered, defeated. Fuck it, you thought again. You had no reason to be coy, these people were only marginally part of your life, you could easily avoid them if you wanted to. If Viago wasn’t interested or wanted to play hard to get or whatever the fuck this was about, you’d simply move on. Tons of guys out there, alive and breathing.

Viago said your name. You looked up, expecting his usual expression -that rather endearing mix of naiveté and affability- but instead he looked… he looked… He looked wanton. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes were this rich, dark shade of brown and fuck, you didn’t even try to stop yourself, you stood on your tiptoes and grabbed his collar and kissed him.

He was as cold as you’d thought he would be, but his mouth was soft and pliant. His hands flew to your waist and his fingers dug at the supple skin there and you let out a small moan and then Viago moved his mouth against yours and pressed you flush against his body and fuck fuck fuck you could feel yourself getting wet and _Jesus fucking christ_ , you might fuck him right then and there if you didn’t put some distance between your bodies.

You stepped back, breathing hard. He tried to follow your mouth, leaning down and forward, fingers still digging into your waist, and you had to take a deep breath and put a hand on his chest. You couldn’t even remember the last time you were this turned on, and there hadn’t been any tongue, for fuck’s sake.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like that” he whispered.

You scoffed and laughed. “That was pretty chaste considering the dirty thoughts I have about you all the time” you admitted.

Viago closed his eyes and let out an almost inaudible whimper.

“What do you want to do, Viago?”

You had made your intentions pretty clear, but you needed Viago to willingly say yes. You didn’t want to coerce him, so you stepped back even farther, allowing him some space to consider. God, his eyes were so brown, so pretty, especially when he looked at you like that, like you were this precious thing that might run away if he said or did the wrong thing. You wondered if this is how he looked at his victims before he killed them. You wondered how adept he was at hunting and killing people, considering his demure nature. You wondered if all he needed was the flick of someone’s tongue against his own to activate those instincts; if pulling at his hair or digging your nails into his skin would turn him into the killing machine that lurks behind his courtesy and dandy-like behavior.

This was a dangerous game you were playing, but your absolute need to fuck this man, to hear him moan and growl as he thrusts into you, as you ride him, as you bite his lip and lap at his skin and suck on his cock and do everything with him and to him, fuck, that seemed to supersede even your basic survival instincts.

“I want you to show me what you want” he said.

You stepped closer. “Promise me you won’t hurt me.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “I would never hurt you. I promise you I won’t hurt you”, he murmured, his breath cool on your face. You took his hand and led him down the street to your house.

  


Viago sits on your bed, his hands folded in his lap. You sit next to him.

“Look at me, Viago.”

He turns, his eyes big and soft under the dim light of your bedroom.

“Is this what you want? Am I what you want?” You try to be as blunt as you can; you want to make sure neither of you regret this.

Viago looks at you in they eye when he speaks. “Like I said, you’re a very likable person. You’re pretty and funny and kind. And when you kissed me… It felt good. I felt good. I felt something I hadn’t felt in a really long time.” He pauses and looks down. “I felt desire. I felt the need to hold you, to touch you, to…”, his tone dwindles down until he’s whispering.

“To what?” You wanted him to say it, you wanted to hear his voice saying it.

Viago looked at you and you noticed his short, quick breaths. “To fuck you. To feel myself inside of you.”

Your breathing matches his, you notice. You try to fill your lungs with as much air as you could and Viago looks down to your chest and you want to take it slowly but you also want to feel him, to taste him, to fucking devour him.

“Have you done this before?”

He slowly nods and smiles. “Not as much as Vladislav and Deacon. I… I don’t have much experience, to be honest. And…” There is so much hesitation in his voice, but you keep quiet. You fear interrupting him will discourage him from being completely open.

“There was only one woman, and what we did… It was also chaste. Like the kiss. You said it was chaste. It was a different time, and she was… we both were… I loved her, and she loved me, but we showed our love differently. S-sex has never been much of a concern, but…” another long pause.“The knowledge that you want me makes me feel things. Good things. It stirs something in me that I didn’t think was there, and I’d very much like to explore that with you.”

You smile. He’s almost too sweet, too innocent. Well, save for the whole _drinks people’s blood_ issue. But you give zero fucks about that, all you want is Viago under you, on top of you, every fucking preposition of place you.

You kiss him softly. He responds immediately, his lips moving slowly against yours. You run your fingers through his hair and sweet Jesus, it’s so fucking soft. The feeling of his cold skin is a tad weird, but nothing you can’t get used to. You lick his lower lip and he opens his mouth to you. Your tongue laps at his and he sighs into your mouth and fuck, you can’t wait to hear all the noises he’s going to make. His own tongue is circling yours now and the softness and wetness of it makes you shiver. There’s a faint taste of blood and you think it should disgust you but it actually turns you on more.

The kiss is growing more desperate; Viago holds your head and his hands span your entire face, the tips of his fingers lost in the thick threads of your hair. Your brain is starting to blur anything that isn’t Viago and, without even thinking it, you straddle him. Viago moans. He moans loudly into your mouth and holds you tight against him, hands letting go of your head and grabbing your hips and shamelessly grinding you against him.

He’s hard. You can feel it despite the thick fabric of his pants. You do several things at once. You moan so loudly your next door neighbors might’ve heard. You grab his hair and pull at it. You bite his lower lip. You rub your crotch against his, the friction on your covered clit giving you a full-body tremor. Viago growls and breaks the kiss.

He has become, in a matter of seconds, a creature you hardly recognize. His hair is a mess of curls; his eyes are almost black with lust; his mouth is wet and pink and his fangs appear longer and sharper. He’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and he’s also the most frightening and that undercurrent of fear must be visible on your face cause he cradles it and leans in to whisper “I promised you I wouldn’t hurt you.”

You nod and take the opportunity to suck his thumb into your mouth. You keep your eyes on his and he just watches you suck on his finger. He murmurs something in German before kissing you again, kissing you softly but you’re already super turned on so your kiss is hard and aggressive and you love his mouth and the taste of his spit but you want more, so you drag your lips down his throat and suck hard and he hisses and moans and grunts and his hands are under your t-shirt feeling the warmth -the heat- of your skin, he’s lifting the hem and now you’re not wearing a top, _fuck yes_.

He stares at your breasts, his fingertips feeling the fabric of your bra and you want to tell him to just grab a handful but there’s no need, Viago does just that, kneading the sensitive flesh and pulling and feeling the weight of your tits in his hands and then he snatches the bra down before tearing it right off.

“Oh my God” you gasp, surprised and so wet wearing pants and knickers is fucking uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, that was very brutish of me, I’ll get you a new o-“ he doesn’t get to finish his sentences because you’re kissing him again, a fevered murmur against his mouth.

“You can tear all of it, Viago, I don’t give a fuck, just let me fuck you, I wanna fuck you so hard, so fucking hard…” He nods and moans and whimpers and digs his fingers into your hips. He lowers his head and kisses your throat and licks your collarbone and then he sucks one nipple into his mouth and the swirl of his tongue is maddening and didn’t he say he wasn’t very experienced? But you can hardly think with his mouth on your breasts and his grip on your hips.

You move his hands to your ass and he grabs handfuls of it and you grind down against his hardness. You’re so fucking wet it’s almost embarrassing. And amidst the pleasure you realize Viago is fully clothed. _Fuck that_. You unbutton his vest and hell, his shirt also has a bunch of tiny buttons and you sigh in frustration.

“Have you considered wearing modern clothes?” you ask with a chuckle.

Viago smiles nervously and shakes his head and shows his shirt the consideration he didn’t show your bra and helps you unbutton it. You watch as he does it, his long fingers deftly undoing the nimble buttons. He raises his head when he’s done and looks at you as if waiting for instructions.

You graze the thin line of skin visible, feeling the softness of it. That’s the word that best describes him: soft. His eyes, his smile, his demeanor, his skin. You push the shirt off his shoulders and marvel at the sight of his brown skin. You lean forward and kiss one shoulder, and when your lips reach the column of his neck he lets out an absolutely delicious little moan. The frenzy of just seconds ago has given way to this slow, intimate exploration. Perhaps this is what he meant when you were talking outside his house.

“Do you want to lie down on the bed?”

He looks at you with those big, warm eyes (and you think that’s what you most like about him, his beautiful eyes) and nods.

You hop off his lap and take the opportunity to remove your jeans. Standing there almost naked in front of him made your heart beat wild in your chest. Viago eyes you carefully, his gaze traveling from your chest to your thighs, eyeing you hungrily.

“Do you want me to fully undress now?” he asks you.

“

Are you comfortable doing that?”

He stands up and whoa, you’d forgotten how tall he is. He kicks off his shoes and removes his trousers and oh, he’s not wearing underwear. He’s thinner than his fancy clothes let on. He’s fucking gorgeous, that’s what he is. His chest rises in tandem with yours; you’re both breathing quick and somewhat unevenly. His cock is hard and, contrary to your expectations (you can’t seem to figure out why), fucking big. Not huge, but bigger than you’d anticipated. And before you can reach out and touch him, Viago is kneeling in front of you.

He hooks his fingers in your panties and looks up. “May I?”

You can’t find your voice, so you simply nod. You can’t help but close your eyes as he slides your underwear down your legs. Being bare, completely bare in front of someone new is always a bit nerve-wracking. You wonder if Viago saw the woman he loved so long ago fully nude, or if they made love in the dark. You wonder if Viago watches porn. What does he like? Are you what he likes? Is he comparing you to her? To them? When did you switch roles here? He’s supposed to be the insecure one, no?

You gasp when you feel his mouth on you. His lips are so cold yet his breath is really warm. He licks a long, wet line up your cunt and then swirls the tip of his tongue around your clit, closing his mouth around it and sucking very gently. You let out a long, low moan.

“What the f-fuck, Viago, I thought, I thought you weren’t-“ you don’t finish your sentence, you just moan again as Viago sucks on the hood of your clit and uses his index, middle and ring fingers to spread your wetness all over your cunt.

“I always found the female anatomy quite fascinating” you hear him say in his thick accent, but his voice lacks its usual sing-song quality. It’s deeper and… huskier. You look down and the sight of this beautiful man down on his knees eating you out makes you whimper and shiver and tangle your hands in his hair.

“Does it feel good? Do you like it? I like the taste. I like the way you taste” he murmurs and he dips his tongue into the slickness of your pussy, takes it out and drags it back to your clit. You need to sit down. You can’t come on your feet, can you? Fuck, how is he so good at this? How?!

“Let me sit on the bed.”

Viago stops lapping at your clit and looks up. His mouth and chin and nose are glistening. You sit on the edge of the bed and spread your legs. He moves closer and takes a long, hard look at you. He trails his fingertips across your skin: he starts with your shoulders and your arms, and moves down to your breasts and tummy, and then to your thighs, your calves. He spreads your knees wider and his fingers move between them, touching you where you need it most. Before you know it his head is buried between your thighs, mouth on your cunt once again.

He’s licking you in earnest now, thumbs pushing back the hood of your clit so he can take it into his mouth. You grind your pelvis against his face, breath coming out in short puffs of air and you moan more than you breathe or at least that’s how it feels and you ask him to pick up the speed just a little bit and he complies and he licks and sucks and kneads the flesh of your ass with his wicked fingers and just one more flick of the tongue, Viago, just one more, one more, one m-

“FUCK!” you half moan, half shout as you come hard, grip on Viago’s hair tight and vision going white. Your thighs shake and your heart is pumping wildly and you can feel Viago licking around your cunt, humming rather contently at how fucking _drenched_ you are right now. You pull on his hair to make him rise and Jesus fucking Christ his face is covered in your wetness and his eyes are dark and hooded. You lick his chin, his cheeks, his mouth and he opens it and gives you a toe-curling kiss. You have to ask.

“I thought you didn’t have much experience. How on earth are you so good at that?” you giggle.

He giggles too and fuck, how does he manage to be both hot and adorable at once? He shrugs.

“Books. It’s been documented, but not as thoroughly as one might expect, that the clitoris is the center of female sexual pleasure. Orgasm relies heavily on its stimulation, be it manual or oral, or both.” He stops and looks at you in the eye. “Your breathing patterns give your enjoyment away, but, more importantly… the beating of your heart. I can feel your blood pumping in your veins. It’s rather handy for sexual purposes, I’ve just learned.”

You don’t know how to retort, or even if you should. He gave you this oddly academic answer, and then followed it with this super carnal coda. It gives you goosebumps, and he notices it. “Please, don’t be afraid of me” he whispers.

You nod. He hasn’t given you any reason to fear him; you have to keep trusting him.

You reach between your bodies and take his cock in your hand. He’s rock hard, its head covered in precum. Viago hums, his hands caressing your breasts, thumbs grazing your nipples.

“You taste so good” he murmurs. “Do you want me to do it again?”

That’s it. That’s fucking it. You are never letting him out of your bedroom. Ever.

“Lie down” you whisper.

For such an awkward nerd, he’s very graceful when he moves. Like a satisfied cat. He lies down on the bed, looking absolutely yummy in the amber light of your room. You scoot across the bed and kneel between his legs.

Without preamble, you take his cock in your mouth. Viago gives you this half-moan, half-hiss that makes you smile. His cock is heavy and slick in your mouth, and you’re surprised to taste the same saltiness you’d taste in a live man. There is an almost imperceptible coppery taste, like blood. Does his sweat taste the same? Does he even sweat?

You suck on the head of his cock, lick down and up the shaft and then try to engulf it in its entirety. You suck slowly, hollowing your cheeks and moaning when you feel him squirm and whisper your name. He moves your hair to the side and then pulls on it lightly, his hips thrusting ever so softly into your mouth. “Fuck”, he sighs.

“You can let go, if you want.”

Viago grunts, and you see his furrowed brow when you chance a look at his face. He jerks his hips forward, shoving his cock in your mouth. It’s gotten sloppy, your spit drips down your chin and you gather it with your fingers and slick the root of his cock as the head pushes against your open throat. You pull away, gasping for breath, and then lower your head and take one ball in your mouth. Viago growls like a fucking animal and raises his hips completely off the bed. You take the other one in your mouth and then release it with an obscene popping sound, making Viago let out muttered curses in German. You give the head one last suck before sitting up.

He can come in your mouth later; right now you want to ride him as hard as you fucking can.

“Will you let me fuck you, Viago?” you ask as you straddle him. He nods, a look of shameless wantonness on his face. “Say it”, you command. You’ve taken his cock in your hand and you’re rubbing the head against your clit, and Viago swears.

“Yes, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please.” _Careful_ , you think. Begging might make you come faster than you intend. You ease his cock into you and the thickness of it gives you a moan-worthy stretch. But you’re incredibly wet and his cock is all the way inside your cunt now and you just… you just let it _be_ inside you.

You realize you’d closed your eyes and the sight in front of you when you open them makes you groan. How can a man be so beautiful? Viago doesn’t sweat, but he fucking _glows_. You swear there’s a golden glimmer coming off of him, or maybe you’re almost painfully turned on, who knows. Who cares? The dark of his hair is darker, the warmth of his eyes is warmer.

You start moving your hips very slowly, reveling in the feel of his cock, in the maddening friction, in the slick wetness of your cunt wrapped around that fucking perfect dick. Viago’s hands have found perching on your hips, his fingertips sprawled across the flesh of your ass. He raises his hips slightly, and you take that as a cue to start moving. You lean forward, your own hands resting on his chest, and you kiss him nice and slowly. Viago moans in your mouth and that moan is like a drop of musky honey -his taste and your own combined is absolutely thrilling- that travels down your throat and settles in your lower belly. You sit up and start riding him fast and dirty.

“Fuck, Viago, I’m never letting you leave. Never, never, your fucking cock is f-fucking perf-” you’re delirious now, riding him so fast and hard the bed rattles, and you tilt your hips forward, seeking that wonderful angle that’ll set you ablaze and Viago, perfect Viago reaches out and presses his thumb against your clit and starts moving it in tiny, tiny circles and you moan loudly and desperately and bite down on his chest and Viago groans and drags you down for a sloppy kiss and his tongue in your mouth makes you _strain_ your hips and your thighs in an effort to fuck him senseless and he hasn’t stopped touching you and you straighten your spine because there’s only so much you can take and words are spilling out of your mouth, words that sound like _fuck_ and _please_ and _Viago_ and _gonna fuckin’ come all over your fuckin’ cock_.

And you do. Your orgasm starts unfurling in your lower body, you feel it in your cunt and in your abdomen and in the small of your back, and it spreads upward and outward and soon enough you’re nothing but a body that convulses in blinding, deafening pleasure.

You’re barely aware of Viago’s heavy breathing and moaning as your cunt squeezes his cock, and you try to get your scattered self together and you move your hips more consciously and Viago is fucking up into you now, rattling the remnants of that amazing orgasm you just had and before you can even realize it he’s sitting up and pressing you tight against him and biting down on your shoulder and coming _hard_ inside of you.

You tangle your fingers in his hair and hold him tight. The chill of his skin still feels strange and foreign, but when your own body is steaming hot it’s almost comfortable.

Viago licks the marks of his teeth on your shoulder before sliding his tongue up your throat and pulling you in for a wet kiss. You’re both shaking, completely wrecked by your orgasms. And yet the kiss, while sloppy and sensual, is also… intimate. It’s a weird word to use after such a salacious fuck, but it feels like you’re acknowledging the fact that you’re no longer mere acquaintances who wave at each other and make small talk on the street.

Viago is not a womanizer like Vladislav nor a sex-crazed puppy like Deacon. Viago is… Viago. Sweet and friendly and awkward. And you like him so fucking much. And you wonder what happens now.

“Never letting me leave, yeah?” he says against your lips.

You smile and, like always, he smiles back. You disentangle your limbs from his and plop down on the bed. You’re a sticky mess, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“You can’t get me pregnant, can ya?” you ask against the pillow.

Viago settles next to you, his fingers caressing your back. “No, I can’t.”

Vampire biology is beyond your -or anyone’s- understanding, so you take his reassuring whisper and leave it at that.

“But my refractory period is much shorter than live men’s is.”

You can’t help but giggle. You shift around and lie on your back, knees apart. You’re starting to like the way Viago looks at you a bit too much. There’s hunger and longing and camaraderie and sweetness. Only he could pull off such a mix.

He touches you everywhere: your breasts -he seems quite fond of them-, your shoulders and your arms; your waist and your tummy. He takes your hand and kisses your palm and your wrist; he licks your fingers and it gives you a tingly sensation all over. You sigh when he lowers his head and takes your nipple into his mouth. You reach out and _fuck_ , he’s hard again. You moan at the feeling of his mouth on your breast and his heavy cock in your hand. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, aren’t you?” you tease.

Viago hums in response, his tongue trailing down your belly.

“There’s so much I want to do with you”, he murmurs. “And to you”, he finishes.

“I wanna hear all of it.”

He spreads your legs wider and lies down between them.

“I want to do this as much as you'll let me” he says as he licks your cunt.

You chuckle then moan. “Don’t count on me stopping you” is your reply.

He laps at all the wetness and licks your clit very gently. “I want to take you in every position imaginable”, he continues. You’re having trouble thinking, for fuck’s sake.

“Yes” you whisper.

Viago sucks on your clit. “Up against the wall?” you half-ask, half-gasp as Viago keeps sucking at your clit. You feel his nod.

“On my hands and knees?” you continue. Viago groans and sucks a tad harder. You fling your arm over your eyes, trying to reign in the string of curses threatening to leave your mouth.

Like before, he dips his tongue in your cunt, as if he’s trying to get to the very source of your taste. He then slips two fingers inside of you; you’re so messily wet they slide in without resistance.

“FUCK!” you scream. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Viago”. You’re trembling, but Viago is merciless: he moves his fingers in and out, crooking them just so, and his mouth is still on you, his hot breath encircling your clit, his lips closed around the hood, his hand resting on your lower belly applying the slightest pressure and you just stumble over the precipice and come even harder than before, so hard your brain almost shuts down entirely. At this rate, next time he makes you come you’ll pass out.

Your muscles are still clenching and contracting, giving you a few more seconds of absolute bliss. You’re absentmindedly rubbing your cunt against Viago’s face, and he doesn’t seem to mind one bit, focused solely on gathering as much of your cum as he can with his mouth. He crawls up your body and you’re tired and worn out -athletic sex has never been your thing- but Viago’s weight feels good on you and he’s like the opposite of a thermal blanket and you dig it because you’re awfully warm to the touch so you turn and lie on your side, and Viago may lack experience but he has common sense, so he settles behind you. You throw your leg over his own, opening up to him.

“Do you want this?” he asks very lowly.

“Do I want what?” You may be exhausted but hearing Viago talk dirty is not something you’re going to pass up.

“This” he exhales as he kisses you behind the ear and presses the head of his cock against your cunt.

You hum, sparks of desire still moving about inside you. “What?” you insist with a shit-eating grin he can’t see.

He groans and you can’t keep yourself from chuckling. “My cock inside of you.” “Me fucking your perfect little cunt” he whispers.

You let out a moan and nod and he’s inside in less than a second.

Maybe you could come a fourth time. Probably not, but it’s worth trying. He starts moving his hips and you’re quite comfortable like this, being rocked by the sway of his hips and the soft caresses of his hands on your breasts and your ribs. You reach behind you and tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling it. He moans and thrusts into you harder.

You’re not gonna come -you can’t even muster the energy to touch yourself- but you want him to come hard, again. You turn your head and seek his mouth, and Viago, sweet Viago, kisses you hard and messily.

“Harder”, you moan. He grunts and slams into you, losing rhythm and digging his fingers into your hips.

“I’m gonna- can I-“ and you kiss him again and you nod and you give him one last push.

“Cum hard in me, Viago.”

He bares his fangs and bites down on your neck and your heart skips a fucking beat but he doesn’t _bite you_ , he just bites down, indenting your flesh but not piercing it and damn, that’s gonna leave a nasty mark, and he cums with a growl, his whole body shaking and his eyes shut tight. His grip on you is ironlike, your body moving in tandem with his as his orgasm rattles every muscle and bone. God, you’re gonna sleep for 12 hours straight after this. You are _exhausted_.

Viago loosens his hold and slackens next to you. You hear him murmur your name after a few minutes (you can’t assure you hadn’t started dozing off). You slowly turn to face him. He looks wrecked. Just like you, you suppose. But the warmth of his gaze is… you like it. That’s what drew you to him in the first place. That and his stupidly handsome mug.

“I can’t stay” he says almost regretfully.

You nod. “I know.” You don’t know what else to say. Viago seems at a loss for words as well. You raise your hand and trace one finger along his jaw, then cup his cheek. He relaxes into it, closing his eyes. Something in your chest aches a little. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s been shown affection. You know so little about him, after all.

The changing hue of the light coming from outside lets the both of you know that dawn is nearing. Viago sighs and opens his eyes. He takes your comforter and drapes it over you before getting out of bed. You close your eyes briefly -if you do so for more than ten seconds you’ll fall asleep. You do this several times, each time hoping you don’t open them again to a room full of sunlight.

Viago is fully dressed now.

“Hey” you whisper. He looks at you and smiles. This habit of his is contagious; you find yourself smiling back.

“Two positions, ninety-eight more to go.”

His eyes crinkle when he giggles. _This man_.

“I’m sure there are far more, and I want to be thorough” he states.

You laugh and wink. And your body seems to use up the last of your energy for those two actions because you feel your eyes closing despite your best efforts. You feel a feather-like touch in your shoulder before you fall into a deep slumber.

It’s well past noon when you wake up. You drowsily reach out and check your phone.

 _“It’s 5:38 AM. Against the wall and on your hands and knees next, per your request? And you on top again. And underneath me after that. Perhaps we should make a list, yeah? Would you like me to come over at dusk?”_.

You bark out a laugh and start typing a reply.

You count the hours until dark.


	2. Chapter 2

You’d asked him if he would wear a costume. The clothes he wears certainly qualify as such, at least by modern standards. You did wonder how he would look with jeans and a T-shirt, but his clothes are also a part of who he is, of how he perceives himself, so you hadn’t bothered asking him to wear something else. 

You’ve been fucking for almost two months now. Viago wasn’t joking when he said he wanted to take you in every position imaginable. The night of your second encounter, he’d pinned you to the nearest wall as soon as he walked through your front door.

“Is this okay?” he murmured as he kissed you feverishly and snatched your dress up. He pounded into you with desperation, as if he hadn’t been buried deep inside you the night before. You asked him to go harder as you stroked your clit with urgency, nails digging into his shoulder and tongue tasting the hot wetness of his mouth. You came with a string of curses flying out of your mouth, and Viago followed shortly. He then proceeded to kneel and lick his cum as it dripped down your leg. You groaned so loudly he actually shushed you.

 _I’ve created a monster_ , you thought amid the pleasure of watching Viago eat his own cum off your skin. He followed that stint with a full display of his oral skills: he sucked on your clit as if there were no tomorrow. You came faster than you ever had. He’d been in your house less than 20 minutes.

You fucked in your kitchen, in your living room, in your bathroom. You fucked him in your shower; Viago’s dark hair stuck to his forehead as he made you come with his mouth, as he pushed into you from behind. You rode him fully clothed while he was completely nude; he ravished you with all of his frilly clothes on while you were stark naked. And on your knees.

Viago _really_ likes to fuck you on your knees, almost as much as he likes it when you are on top (he admitted his preference for the latter was an emotional attachment to that first night. And he loved the way your breasts bounced as you moved up and down his cock). The doggy-style position allowed him to tune into his hunter instincts (they were definitely there, beneath his shy politeness and almost passive demeanor). The first time he fucked you like that, he showed you a much more controlling Viago that turned you on so fucking much.

He -very politely- asked you to get on your hands and knees. He ran his fingers down your back and softly pushed you into the mattress. He took a few moments to admire you from behind. He grabbed your hips and raised them. You were so exposed like this, unable to hide anything and incapable of seeing what he was doing.

He gave your pussy a few licks, briefly sucking on your clit. You sighed and held your breath as he shifted behind you, aligning his hips with your own. He was inside of you in one swift thrust. He started to move very slowly, his breathing becoming more and more ragged. It felt nice, yes, but you wanted it a bit harder. You pushed against him, trying to increase the friction, and that’s when Viago snapped. He dug his fingers into the flesh of your hips so hard you actually yelped.

“Don’t move” he growled.

He slammed his cock into you, setting a rough, bruising rhythm. His hold of your hips was so tight it was almost painful, but the angle was _glorious_. He set your whole lower body ablaze with his thrusts, the head of his cock brushing against that spot inside of you that made your vision go white. Your nipples grazed against the sheets, a barely-there friction that drove you crazy. You whimpered helplessly, and you made the mistake of trying to reach out to him, to touch him. He fucking jumped at the opportunity to take your arms and pin them behind you. _Now_ you were helpless.

His rhythm didn’t falter once; he was as ruthless as he was precise. You felt so close to orgasm, your cunt clenching desperately around his cock. The sounds of Viago fucking you senseless were obscene, and they were all you could hear. But there words, too.

“You perfect little thing. You love it when I fuck you, huh? You love my cock inside of you, don’t you? This perfect little cunt is mine now. Mine. You’re mine. Mine. You’re fucking mine, you hear me? Mine. Mine. Mine…” Each _mine_ in sync with a hard thrust.

It was like a prayer, a mantra. A loop of lustful exclamations of desire and ownership. You’d later wonder if Viago was even aware he was saying those words aloud. But the effect, intended or not, was devastating: you came so fucking hard you blacked out for a few seconds. Your brain fucking rebooted just in time to hear Viago moan and to feel him grasp your ribcage and come deep inside you, shaking violently.

His breath was like steam on your back, his hips moving in tiny spasms. When he let go, your lower body fell to bed, limp. You couldn’t even move. You felt Viago shift around on the bed and you closed your eyes. You had never been fucked like that. And it was quite amusing that it’d been Viago the one to do so.

You felt something soft and wet between your thighs. Viago was cleaning you up. With his mouth. He kissed your lower back and moved up until his mouth hovered over your neck. He pressed his lips against it in a soft, lingering kiss.

He settled next to you. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “Didn’t think you had it in you” you said with a smile.

He laughed. “Neither did I. You’re quite talented at awakening things in me.” He drew shapeless figures on your back with his fingertips until you fell asleep. You woke up at almost dawn, alone.

The next night you… made love. He ate you out and you came moaning his name. He crawled up your body and settled between your legs and kissed you nonstop, gently rocking his hips into you. He came with a whimper, his brow furrowed and his mouth full of a tenderness that made your heart hurt just so.

You made sure to ride him hard and dirty the next night. No room for soft feelings. You kissed him sloppily, biting his lip. You dug your nails into his chest. You slapped his face when he tried to touch your breasts. You threatened to tie him up (you’d do just that a few nights later). But after you came on top of him, lungs almost collapsing and thighs shaking, Viago held you close. He manoeuvred both your bodies so you were lying on your sides, face to face. He kissed you nice and slowly, tongue swirling in your mouth, fingers caressing your skin ever so softly. He held tight onto you and closed his eyes, sighing contently.

And the ache in your heart grows. And the more you try to cover it up with rough, aggressive fucking, the more acute it turns. You get down on your hands and knees and Viago fucks you mercilessly. He marks the skin of your waist and hips with dark bruises. He bites the soft flesh of your back as he fucks you. You ask him to spank you and he pauses for a moment.

“I don’t want to hurt you” he says, though his fingers grab you and knead your ass. He runs one index along the crease between your cheeks and you gasp and shudder.

“Please, Viago” you whimper. He may be immortal, but he is not immune to the powerful thrill of supplication. He spanks you until your ass burns and your sweaty forehead sticks to the sheets as your orgasm rips through you. He cums all over your reddened cheeks and then wipes you clean with his tongue.

And he says things. It’s interesting that he only ever runs his mouth while he’s fucking you in that position. “I’ll never leave, never, never, never. You’re mine, only mine. I’ll make you mine, fuck, mine, let me make you mine, please, please…”

You want to turn your head around and look at him, but you’re almost afraid of the sight. So you keep your head pressed to the bed and focus the rest of your senses on him: the hot plea in his voice, the smell of sex, the feel of his fucking perfect cock in you.

You raise yourself and press your back to his chest, and you let your head rest on his shoulder. He wraps his hand around your throat and gives you a wet, bruising kiss, and the rhythm of your hips never breaks, it only builds and builds until you feel it crack you open from the inside, and Viago holds you so, so tight and keeps fucking you through an orgasm that unravels you and turns you into a moaning, trembling mess. He comes shortly after, grinding into you and muttering filthy nothings in your ear.

You raise your hand and tangle your fingers in his hair. He lowers both your bodies and you just lie there, trying to catch your breath. He runs his fingertips along your arm, down your side, on your back. You feel a lump in your throat and fight the urge to scoot closer and hold onto him, but it’s a losing fight. Even though his body offers no heat, you still find yourself moving closer.

Viago seems to crave your touch, your closeness even more after sex. He knocks on your door at twilight and he leaves your bed when it’s almost dawn. You’ve been fucking for over three months now, and is this even just fucking? It was supposed to be, but you never discussed it with him. Your attraction to him was driven by pure lust, and the sex is beyond amazing.

But you’re not sure it’s just sex anymore. There’s something more, but you don’t know what it is. You and Viago have never stepped out of your house together. You’ve talked about your lives, but one night you realized you were being too open and panicked. You closed off like a vault, giving him only shallow details and trivial anecdotes after that. And when he noticed what you were doing, he looked hurt. Betrayed. So he stopped telling you things about himself altogether. And your mistake was to try to fix that with more sex.

  


You’d asked him to wear a costume. You don’t like vampire movies, but you enjoy sci-fi. And you like Star Wars. So you asked him to dress up as Boba Fett. You googled it together so he could see, but he said yes as soon as you asked. He managed to get his hands on a very realistic costume (probably with Stu’s help).

He knocks on your door and when you open it, there he is, Boba Fett (sans jetpack). You gasp and step back, surprised. You’d thought he would ask you when you wanted him to wear it. You silently look at each other for like ten seconds before he’s on you.

He can’t kiss you, but he grabs you and, like that second night, pushes you against the wall, kicking the door shut. He presses his body against yours and tangles his gloved fingers in your hair. You can’t see his eyes past the darkness of the T-shaped visor.

“Say my name” you command. You can hear his shallow breaths. He whispers your name and your eyes flutter closed. His other hand goes to your bare neck, pressing down. It’s not enough to cut off your oxygen, but definitely enough to exert tangible pressure. And to make you wet. He drags his thumb across your cheek until it’s resting on your lower lip. You nibble on it.

“I want your cock in my mouth.”

“Fuck” he grunts. You slide your fingers down the cuirass of his armor, stopping when you reach the zipper of his pants. You look up, hoping Viago can see how much you want him, how deep your desire for him runs. He nods once. You kneel and make quick work of his trousers. He’s already rock hard, and you waste no time.

You swirl your tongue around the head before sucking it into your mouth. Viago moans above you. You coax more of him into your mouth until his entire cock has disappeared from his view. You hear a muffled groan and you can almost feel the effort he’s making not to push his hips forward. You start bobbing your head to and fro, his cock growing wetter and wetter. You slide almost all of it out of your mouth, only to swallow it whole again. You look up and see a helmeted man looking down, his armored chest rising and falling to the rhythm of his rapid breathing.

“You look so good sucking my cock.” The helmet distorts his voice slightly, making you squirm. You hum and lower one of your hands and start touching yourself. Viago catches the movement and swears, his head tilted to the side. You press a finger to that point behind his balls and Viago loses even a bigger fraction of control and growls as he grabs your head and pushes it toward his hips. That’s your cue to stand.

Your mouth and chin have his precum and your spit smeared all over them, and Viago seems to forget he’s wearing a helmet because he leans forward as if to kiss you, stopping himself just before he smashes cold metal into your face.

“Fuck me” you order him. You whip yourself around and unbutton your pants, pushing them past your hips along with your underwear.

He grips one shoulder and one hip, angling your body toward his. You shudder in anticipation.

“Want me to fuck you? To fuck you hard?”

You nod and spread your knees a little bit more, raising your ass. Viago grabs a handful before sliding his cock in you. He starts moving, slowly at first, but gaining speed as the friction gets more maddening. You look back and see that damn T visor focused on you. You want to look away, but you can’t.

What you’re feeling right now is… surreal. You are fucking Boba Fett, but Fett isn’t real. There’s a man underneath the helmet and the armor, and it’s a man you have complicated feelings for. Or maybe it’s you who’s unnecessarily complicating things. All you know is that the sight of that helmet got you wet the moment you laid eyes on it, and knowing that the face beneath it is a face you have come to look forward to, a face you have memorized in detail, a face you’ve seen an array of emotions onto, from desire to lust to longing to joy to… something you can’t bring yourself to name… this knowledge splinters something in your chest, and you let out a half-moan, half-sob as you touch your clit and press your own face to the wall, your eyes shut tight.

Viago turns you around and rips the helmet off his head. “Look at me”, you hear him growl. He hasn’t stopped fucking you; your legs wrap themselves around his waist and his cock is buried deep inside of you. You don’t even care about coming anymore, but you will anyway. Because Viago knows your body too well now, and he knows how to get you off with ease.

He brushes your hand away and sucks on his fingers and circles your clit with them, and he thrusts hard into you as he does it and the world shatters around you, like a piece of glass dropped on the floor. Your pleasure hurts, it’s hard and hot and it fucking hurts, and you refuse to open your eyes because it will be _you_ what shatters if you do.

“I want you to watch me come inside of you. Watch me come inside of you, watch me make you mine, because you are mine, do you hear me? You are mine and I am yours. I am yours. I am yours”. His voice is ragged and deep, and his words have the echo of many things at once: an order, a request, an offering, a lament.

You sob. You let out a pained sob and open your eyes. Viago is looking at you, his beautiful brown eyes so full of life, how is that possible? So full of life, so warm, so loving. He kisses you and comes, shaking. You hold him as close as you can, tasting his desperation, his need to show you how he feels about you.

You’re shaking, too. His kiss grows softer. Viago knows how to convey tenderness with his mouth.

Do you know? The last time you were soft and tender you got bruised and burned. Viago bruises you in a way you enjoy. You’re not sure whether you’re willing to give him the power to hurt you. But he sure is persuasive. He tears down your concerns one soft kiss at a time.

“This costume is rather itchy and hot.”

You smile. “Did you rent it or something?” You stand on still weak legs and move across the living room.

He follows you, and you both sit on the sofa. “I bought it.” You laugh.

You take in the sight of Viago dressed as a skilled hunter. Hmm. You help him remove the cuirass and the vambraces. He didn’t even hesitate when you asked him. He didn’t ask for help to find the costume. He wore something that caused him discomfort to please you.

“Do you think we could be more than this? Because I’d like that very much”. His question is so direct. He has a bow and an arrow and he knows how to aim. You look at him. You love his face. So expressive, so joyful. You reach out and touch his lips with your fingers, and then bring them to your own mouth, tasting him.

“More than what?” you ask, your voice barely audible. “What are we, Viago? What do you want from me?” A lot of questions uttered slowly, almost shamefully.

Viago reaches across the narrow space between your bodies and slides your jeans -and your panties- down your legs. He ends up kneeling between them, a questioning look on his face.

Sex is the language you’ve used to communicate these past three months, and Viago understands that very well. You nod and he starts licking you, as eagerly and thoroughly as that first night in your bedroom. The way he opens you up and sucks on your clit makes you whimper and raise your hips off the sofa. He holds you in place, drawing your knees further apart, scooting your hips closer to the edge so he can access every inch of your cunt and devour it with wet-hot precision.

You always feel incredibly open when he eats you out, your desire on full, vivid display for his viewing pleasure. And he fucking loves it, lives for it. He’s gone down on you every single time you’ve fucked, almost always more than once in one night. He seems to enjoy the power trip, having you at his mercy, being able to shatter you to pieces with only his mouth. And he’s obsessed with your taste: he loves the mess he makes and he laps at it like a man dying of thirst.

“This is lovely, so lovely” he murmurs. “Fucking you almost every night” -a particularly hard suck makes you gasp and bite your lip- “tasting your mouth, licking the sweat off your skin, tasting your sweet little cunt that drips for me”-he slides his index and middle fingers into you and you scream, and your whole body trembles, and your fingers find his hair and hold on tightly- “hearing the vulgar sounds of my cock slamming into you, slamming into that almost impossibly wet cunt -fuck, being inside of you is heavenly-”

Viago stops eating your pussy, but he remains in position. “But I want more. And I know it’s hard, I know what I am, I know this is strange.”

He removes his fingers, only to slip them into his mouth, lick them thoroughly, take them back out and slide them right back in you. He licks up your cunt and resumes sucking on your clit, humming while he’s at it, the vibration making you close your eyes and focus on that spark that’s going to set you aflame.

“I want all of you. All of you. Not just this. All of you. All that you can give me freely and willingly. All of you.”

You hear yourself gasp his name before you implode, your body succumbing to red-hot bliss.

You tug at the collar of the flight suit and kiss him. He tastes like your pleasure and it’s almost dizzying.

“I’m sorry.” You kiss him again. You always want to kiss him, to have him close, to feel him.

“For what?” Viago is running his fingers through your hair.

“For pretending.” You wish you could articulate your feelings a bit better, but you’re not quite sure you’ll manage in this state. That’s what you had been doing: pretending. You can be awfully good at it when you feel compromised. And Viago had certainly put you in a compromising position: he’d dared to be more than you expected, more than you could handle. You assumed nonstop fucking was what he wanted because it was what you wanted. And, to an extent, he did.

Your body became his fixation; he admitted as much one night, when you were on your knees sucking him off and he breathlessly asked you, begged you, to let him cum in your mouth. And you could almost feel him force himself to keep his eyes open as he came, watching as your mouth engulfed his swollen cock and you swallowed his load (the absolutely sinful noise he made in that moment will echo in your head until your last fucking breath).

And as his most intimate taste coated your tongue and trickled down your throat and you felt powerful, because, in a way, it made him yours and yours alone. And you understood his fevered words.

He kissed you nice and slowly, and you asked him, out of morbid curiosity, if he was developing a cum fetish (the undiluted filthiness of feeling or _seeing_ Viago eat his own cum out of your cunt drove you fucking wild).

Viago answered to most of your teasing with surprising candor. “I like the degeneracy of it, yes. But I like tasting the two of us at once. It’s like… alchemy.”

 _Huh_ , you thought. Only Viago could be so earnest about the implications of tasting his cum out of you.

That same night he admitted he jerked off thinking about you. It was something he seldom did because it made him feel empty and lonely (and his flatmates’ regular conquests certainly helped heighten that feeling). Sometimes, however, after killing and draining someone, he’d get such a high that he would rush to the bathroom and masturbate furiously, coming so hard his ears would ring for several minutes afterwards and he’d slump against the wall, shaking.

Almost a week after you started having sex, you asked him to give you a few days because you didn’t want to risk a UTI. He stayed in his room and, with nothing else to do and growing accustomed to being with you at night, he started jerking off. He’d think about the things you’d done and the things he wanted to do with you and spill himself in his hand, mouthing your name.

It was torture, he’d said. He felt a sick fever brewing under his skin, an itch only you could scratch. Vladislav and Deacon cracked a couple of jokes, but mostly left him alone. Deacon was impressed that Viago, of all three, had been the one to get into your pants.

When he touched you after several nights of abstinence, he experienced a similar high to the one he felt after feeding. You remember him clinging to your body almost possessively; you’d been in the kitchen fixing yourself a drink and he’d fucked you right where you stood, your back pressed to his chest and his fingers stroking your clit while his other hand pulled your head back by the hair and laid soft bites along your throat and shoulder. The contrast between his hard, unforgiving thrusts and the softness of his mouth on your skin made you moan low in your throat, and with one last flick of his middle finger you came with a shout and a shudder.

That was the night you started noticing how… tactile he became once he had an orgasm. He picked you up and carried you upstairs to your bedroom. He did away with the clothes you were still wearing and just traced his fingertips all over your body. He laid his head on your chest and continued dragging his fingers across your skin, until he snuck them between your thighs and started touching you with much clearer intentions.

And every time he came, whether in you or on you, he’d snuggle up to you and kept touching you and kissing you. Perhaps that’s when your pretending began. You chalked up that clinginess to centuries of abstinence and all-around aloofness: Viago, his problematic nature notwithstanding, was a pretty decent guy, though completely disengaged from the reality of physical needs other than feeding. But as his friendship with Stu showed, and the respect he always treated you with, before and after you started whatever it is you have, he’s quite capable of not only healthy interactions with non-vampires, but of genuine connection.

Viago’s disconnect to contemporary dynamics of sex and romance made him an interesting blank slate: he didn’t worry about seeming eager or clingy, he didn’t try to gain the upper hand by engaging in emotional tug-of-wars. He was devastatingly transparent in his wants and needs, which were purely physical at first, until they no longer weren’t.

Every post-orgasmic touch was tinted with yearning. He longed for closeness, that much became evident. You once asked him if he considered Vladislav and Deacon his friends. He said yes; in fact, they were more than that: they were brothers. Petyr was akin to a father figure, though distant and sometimes unreliable. Vladislav was the one he felt closest to, despite being completely different from himself.

But spending time with you had seemed to make him realize he wanted a different type of connection.

Why me? you’d wonder, listening to him speak. So you asked, though not as bluntly.

“Didn’t you ever try to fuck your victims? I’m sure a lot of the women came over expecting to get laid."

It was an uncomfortable question, an uncomfortable train of thought. You really didn’t want to dwell on the moral implications of fucking a murderer. That was another reason you wanted to keep it strictly sexual; any further, deeper entanglements would entail some serious introspection.

But man, oh man, Viago was far sharper than you’d given him credit for. He had killer (ha-ha) intuition. “Luring them to their deaths is morally reprehensible enough, don’t you think? Yes, I thought about it.” He looked away. “Started to, once or twice. I mean, they’d lean in to kiss me and I’d play along for a few moments. But I thought it… indecent. I was about to kill them, to use them in the worst possible way. Sex would’ve made the whole ordeal far worse.”

He looked at you once more. “Does it conflict you, what I am?”

You could feel your heart beating more quickly than before. And he could feel it too. “Clearly not, since you’re in my bed almost every night.” You paused and tried to find the right words. God, not your strong suit. “I can’t decide if what you do can be classified as morally wrong. It’s an instinct, isn’t it? You either follow the laws of your nature, or you follow the laws of man. You can’t do both.”

It’d be like judging a wolf for hunting and killing. But you didn’t say that, cause no one, not even vampires, you suppose, want to be compared to animals. Viago twirled a strand of your hair around his finger before tucking it behind your ear.

“That night, the night of the party, Stu said you had the hots for me. I found it so hard to believe, but he seemed so sure of it. We’d made a promise to you, not to hurt you. You were off limits. I know this is probably going to sound terrible, but that was what made it so easy to… cave. You weren’t prey. Not seeing you as a means to a rather selfish end made you tempting. Alluring. When you told me that you liked me, it was like a eureka moment. I could use you in a different way, a way that didn’t only benefit myself, so I considered it fair. And that kiss sealed the deal”.

Wow. His words sounded harsh, but after a few moments of turning them upside down and inside out, you realized that was exactly what you had felt.

Your attraction to Viago was, in the beginning, purely sexual. You wanted to fuck him because you hadn’t fucked anyone in months and because he was handsome and charming. Your confession was an open declaration of intentions, and the results were clearly in your favor. You just didn’t suspect that Viago had something to gain as well. Quite naive and fucking arrogant of your part to think you were doing him a favor by fucking him.

Ha, he’d even said it! _You stir things in me and I want to explore that with you_. You’d been too turned on to give too much thought to his words. You felt silly, almost embarrassed. But Viago closed the distance and kissed you eagerly, so your mind started focusing on that.

Viago is still kneeling between your legs. There’s something you need to know. And this time you can, you must be blunt.

“I understand that not being potential prey influenced your decision to sleep with me. But that’s a pretty low bar, to be honest. It’s not a recrimination; we both knew what we wanted from the other when we started this. What changed? Not being food makes me an appealing sexual partner, cool. Why do you want more? Yes, the sex is amazing. The best I’ve ever had, to be honest. But what makes you think more than sex could work? What makes you think we’re… compatible?” Your voice is a slow murmur. Viago looks at you, pensive.

“The opportunities for us to spend time together doing something other than fucking are so few, Viago. You’re this nocturnal creature who doesn’t eat, doesn’t drink, who is from a different time. We have nothing in common. I’m just a girl.”

You gently move away and reach for your underwear. Viago stands, not looking at you. Your chest hurts; it’s a dull ache that makes you breathe faster. Intentions, wishes, are not enough. The reality of _more_ requires so much.

You put on your jeans and turn to face him. He looks so good with that stupid flight suit on. He focuses his gaze on you.

“ _You_ make me think that more than sex could work. The way I feel when I’m close to you, when I hold you. You say the opportunities are so few, and you’re right, they are. But we can create more. There are so many things we can do. The world doesn’t stop existing after dark, does it? And… I know we’re different, I know that. I can adjust to these times, I can. I’ve refused because it’s comfortable to be who I’ve always been, to behave the way I always have. But I can ch-“

“I don’t want you to change” you interrupt. “You wouldn’t be Viago if you changed”. You’re facing each other now, and the air around you both is heavy with energy.

Viago frowns. “Who is Viago, according to you? What do you see when you look at me? What was it that you found attractive in me?”

Found. Past tense. As if you didn’t find him attractive in this very moment. But they’re good questions, albeit not easy to answer.

“I like you because you’re handsome. Beautiful. I like looking at you. I like undressing you. I like everything I see and touch. But…”

Your words falter. How can you explain, how can you convey how utterly charming you find him? “I like the sound of your voice, and that silly accent of yours. I like the way you are with people. Your friendliness, which never feels like posturing. It’s always warm and sincere. You are always warm and sincere.” Yes, warm. That warmth is his best quality. “I like the way you look at me, Viago. I like it far too much, I’d say.”

You almost reach out to touch his face, but you stop yourself. That would probably lead to more sex, and that would complicate this further.

It’s Viago who raises his hand and strokes your cheek. “None of that would change. I’m not the clothes I wear or the house I live in. I just want to do so much with you. Yes, the sex is incredible, and…” if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was blushing. “I want to fuck you every single night. Touching you, tasting you, it’s always so overwhelming in the best possible way.” He’s stepped closer, and god, proximity alone is enough to make you wet now. He’s ruined you.

“But there are so many hours in one night. So many lights I want to see you in. So many places to kiss you. So much I don’t know about you that I want to know.” He’s told you so much about himself, and you’ve given very little in return. And you realize you do want to give him more. You want him to know what’s made you who you are now. And you want to know everything about him. He’s lived so long, has done so much.

_So many lights to see you in._

You kiss him. Viago doesn’t miss a beat and kisses you back with a fervor that makes you tremble in his arms. Clothes are discarded and you touch each other with dizzying familiarity. His mouth finds you achingly wet and he makes you come even faster than that second night, against your living room wall. You sigh with satisfaction when you feel him inside of you. You move against each other in a sultry dance you’ve practiced countless times before and that you’ll practice countless times more.

Your fingers find the soft strands of his hair as you lie on the floor, spent. He burrows his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder and draws circles on your belly with his fingers.

“I have a denim jacket.”

You laugh and wonder how Viago ended up owning a goddamn denim jacket.

“It doesn’t go well with my clothes, though. Perhaps you can help me find a _modern_ style.”

You chuckle at the derisive emphasis on modern. “I can definitely help you with that.”

You check your phone. It’s almost midnight. You have a few more hours together. “let’s go upstairs and get some sleep.”

“I’d like that”, he murmurs, half-asleep already.

While there’s still a degree of uncertainty -your own mortality-, you feel… assured. And confident. And fucking ready to see Viago in a plaid shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That moment when reader touches Viago's mouth and brings her fingers to her own lips -yeah, I totally stole that from Florence + The Machine's video for What Kind of Man. It's the most erotic shit I've ever seen, and Florence makes it look so hot and angsty at once. Ugh, Goddess.
> 
> Also also also- SO SORRY for that Boba Fett bit, but hey, two birds one stone or whatever.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments on this hot mess will be very much appreciated :D


End file.
